


Ginger Cake

by retrovertigo (ellameno)



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, Gift Fic, Gift Giving, Holiday Fic Exchange, Mutual Pining, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 20:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13197735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellameno/pseuds/retrovertigo
Summary: Fahrenheit receives a strange letter and Daisy works her negotiation magic.[Gift forkeycchanvia the LGBT Fallout Winter Exchange 2017]





	Ginger Cake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keycchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keycchan/gifts).



> Written for the following prompt: “Fahrenheit has never experienced the holiday season in her life. Daisy wants to fix that. Cue fluffy date, or as fluffy as you can get with a painfully serious Fahrenheit and a centuries-worn Daisy. Bonus if there’s angst thrown in there, but please, a happy ending? Thank you.”

        “What the hell is a Christmas?” Fahrenheit held up the tree shaped card as if it were a hit order. Daisy gave a barking laugh. “Seriously, you give me a date and time and no description other than ‘come over for Christmas’?”

        “I thought it was self explanatory,” Daisy said with a shrug, though she knew damn well Fahrenheit had never dabbled in yuletide cheer-- or any type of cheer, for that matter, that didn’t involve violence or heavy intoxication.

        “I thought you were throwing down the gauntlet, Daisy, you better take more care.”

        “No, no, I would _never._ I think you’d break me.” She smirked, then tilted her head. “How do you know what _that_ means, but you’ve never heard of Christmas.”

        “Gauntlets get thrown down every damn day, and I’ve picked up my fair share.” She lifted her chin as if asking Daisy to dare her.

        “Oh I don’t doubt you do, but settle the hell down, it’s much more gay than that.”

        “Is it...” She wrinkled her nose. “Are you coming onto me?”

        Daisy cackled louder, making Fahrenheit start to fume. Being laughed at ranked high on her endless list of hair-triggers. “Daisy, you tell me what’s going on right now or--”

        “Or what? Punch me out before you even get to try the dessert I’ve been _slaving_ over to perfect?” Daisy said dramatically.

        The lines in Fahrenheit’s brow vanished. “Dessert?”

        “Ooh, I learned the magic word.”

        “Shut up,” she muttered, but didn’t exactly protest, to Daisy’s mirth.

        “Christmas is part of a series of winter holidays--, you know pre-war holidays right?”

        “Like that day mid-summer where we blow shit up?”

        “Sort of, yes. Winter does have a designated blow-shit-up day, but that’s after Christmas.”

        “I think that first one sounds much more fun than whatever Christmas is.”

        “Fun, maybe but not as rewarding.”

        “Bullshit, there is nothing more rewarding than explosives.”

        “Fine, fine, if you’re just going to blackball something deeply meaningful to a pre-war gal like me maybe I don’t want to spend Christmas with you.”

        There was a beat of silence and Fahrenheit’s armor creaked as she shifted her weight in uncharacteristic awkwardness. “So, what... Like, what is it then?” she said, trying to hide her interest behind a deadpan.

        Daisy waved a hand. “Oh no, it’s silly--”

        “No, like... Out of curiosity, I’m just curious,” she deflected, but her darting gaze said otherwise.

        “Oh... well, on Christmas in particular we used to give gifts to our friends and our loved ones... share a meal and spend time with people we cared about. But, of course, I haven’t had loved ones in ages.”

        “So then why me?”

        “Why not you?”

        In a twist of Daisy’s expectations, Fahrenheit gave a honest, though slightly confused, laugh.

        Fahrenheit’s youth saddled her with more inexperience than she’d ever admit. Daisy, on the other hand, was wise and unnaturally long-lived. She read people well, and Fahrenheit could be painfully transparent. The tough and disinterested exterior that she wore was as obvious as a Halloween mask. She lingered far too long around the shop during her rounds with the Neighborhood Watch, under the excuse that there were ‘rumors’ of a possible robbery. Daisy assured her the old ghoul could take care of herself, but Fahrenheit ignored each and every protest. And yet the only thing she seemed to watch was... the shopkeeper herself.

        Daisy had no definitive answer on what Fahrenheit’s relationship with Hancock even was, or where the loyalty derived from, but whatever the case the scrappy young woman had some penchant for ghoulkind. It was novel, in a sense, and Fahrenheit was quite a dish in her own rough way. Daisy always enjoyed the kick of ginger.

        “People...” Fahrenheit started, “don’t... invite me to ‘ _things’_ ,” she ended with skepticism.

        “Well my goodness, I wonder why?” Daisy asked. Fahrenheit again bristled. “If your reaction to RSVPs is to barge in demanding an explanation I’m sure you’ve scared off many a party host. But I don’t scare, dear, I survived nuclear fire and then some.”

        Fahrenheit’s eyes almost glittered, as if Daisy recounted something glorious. She wouldn’t take offense; the girl was... _bellicose_ , a little dissolute, but that’s what made her appealing. Also those _damned freckles._

        “So if I do this thing,” Fahrenheit said like she was accepting a hit job. “I have to get you a gift.”

        “You don’t have to. They just say ‘to give is better than to receive’.”

        “That sounds like more bullshit to me.”

        “Yeah?” Daisy asked with a hint of combativeness.

        “Sorry,” Fahrenheit promptly responded.

        “ _Ha!_ ” The girl’s swift submission was too comical to internalize. Fahrenheit frowned. “No need to be sorry.”

        “I’ll do it. I’ll get you a thing,” she replied with averted eyes.

        “Fine, fine. Don’t act as if it’s a chore, though, defeats the purpose.”

        Fahrenheit flipped the invitation around in her hand, and jutted her jaw, nodding at nothing. “Right. Then. See ya, I guess.”

        Daisy stood watching with crossed arms as Fahrenheit ambled away. Holding her breath til the other woman was out of ear shot before she let out another laugh; again surprised she’d pulled it off. It was a shot in the dark, and somehow it hit a weak spot in Fahrenheit’s seemingly solid armor.

        “Daisy, you still got it,” she congratulated.

        Haggling, flirting, was there really much of a difference?

        ---

        The Christmas record, like everything in this world, was warped. Nostalgia that couldn’t quite be experienced in its pristine state. But instead of being a depressing aspect, the warbling tone lightened the mood, a smirk crossing Daisy’s withered lips whenever the singer was particularly distorted. And also because Fahrenheit presumably considered the ghoul positively mad by now.

        She turned from the stove where she was braising a shepherd’s pie made of Cram and instant potatoes. “Oh, take that armor off, what are you doing?”

        Fahrenheit stared back, with her chin tucked in and a death grip on a beer as she sat rigidly on the scrappy loveseat. “I need it.”

        “From what? Am I gonna kill you with my spatula?” She brandished it menacingly. “ _Christ_.”

        “Not you, I...” She trailed off and then made an odd strained sound, before unfastening her armor. _There was a good girl._ Daisy had never actually seen Fahrenheit without it.

        “Fascinating; you still have a human body under there. I would’ve thought you’d have molded to its shape by now.”

        Fahrenheit’s mouth quivered and she gave a soft ‘hmpf’, which Daisy accepted as stifled laugh. She was softer than expected; sure, her arms were taught from hoisting such a weapon all day, but her middle was a bit more... pillowy. All in all, it gave her a sturdy frame. No wind would knock _her_ over.

        “Don’t ogle me,” Fahrenheit said, though it wasn’t exactly in ire.

        “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m making a mental picture for comparison's sake, I’m about to ruin your figure with all these carbohydrates.”

        “Is that what you’re cooking? A carbon... Uh--”

        Daisy laughed, “I swear to God, you wastelanders would do well to read an encyclopedia.”

        ---

        Ghoul physiology was slight, wispy. A small stomach came along with it, which was fortuitous tonight, as Fahrenheit ravenously consumed three quarters of the entire pan.

        “Well?” Daisy asked rhetorically.

        “It’s weird,” Fahrenheit replied, wiping sauce from her chin.

        “And Merry Christmas to you too,” she snorted.

        “Oh. Right.” Fahrenheit said with vacant realization. “I got you a book.”

        “A book?”

        “Yeah.”

        “What kind of book?”

        “Just... _I dunno_ you were talking to that Vault Dweller about libraries and I don’t read, I just look at the pictures and stuff,” Fahrenheit grabbed it from her canvas bag and handed it to Daisy. “Hancock told me to wrap it in something. So I just put it in bandages, I wasn’t sure.”

        Underneath the layers of gauze was a well-worn edition of _The Wind in the Willows_. Daisy let out a sharp laugh, and Fahrenheit frowned.

        “No-- I--” She chortled again. “It’s funny because I recognize this one, is all.”

        “Oh. Do... Do you have it already?”

        “Well, not anymore. It burned up two-hundred years ago,” she sighed. Fahrenheit straightened up a bit. “Where’d you get this? This... Is this _yours_?”

        “It’s not mine, I just look at it sometimes,” Fahrenheit replied, with near defensiveness. “It’s not like I’d miss it or anything.”

        Something clicked in Daisy’s mind. “Would you like me to read this to you sometime?”

        “I dunno. I _guess._ That’d be kind of cool. Just to know what it’s really about.”

        The grin she suppressed danced on her lips and Fahrenheit’s pinkening cheeks told Daisy everything.

        The kitchen timer rang.

        “Oh, good. Just in time then.” Daisy slapped her knees and stood up. “It’s not truly a successful Christmas until you have dessert.”

        Fahrenheit seemed nearly mortified, which was not a face she wore often, despite how cute it looked on her.

        Daisy pulled out her gingerbread loaf from the oven and began heating a glaze. Bing Crosby started his turn on the distorted vinyl. And then it all smacked her like a shockwave. Images she hadn’t seen in centuries raced in her mind like a slideshow. Her stirring stopped.

        “Heh. This is strange,” she said hoarsely.

        “Yeah. It's bizarre,” Fahrenheit razzed.

        “No, not that. I… I haven’t made this in...” Daisy trailed off, the words too much to say. She looked over her shoulder. “You know sound and scent bring back such memories, for a second I... I thought I was somewhere else.”

        Fahrenheit stood up, surprising her. “You, uh... You ok?” she asked.

        “Yeah.” Daisy smiled, genuinely struck by her concern, yet feeling foolish for almost losing her composure. “Our minds are funny that way. They play tricks on us, don’t they?”

        Fahrenheit nodded, a somberness both in her eyes and gentle movement. There was unquestionably something deep in her too, that she protected behind a metal breastplate and gatling gun.

        Daisy turned back to her dessert, and as she poured the glaze she allowed herself one tear to fall as well.

        ---

        It verged on absurdity, a virtual zombie reading aloud a tale of talking woodland creatures to a woman so brutish, but Fahrenheit seemed to hang on every word. After the first chapter was complete Daisy slammed the book shut, making the other woman jump.

        “Why’d you--”

        “Cake should be cool by now. Have some,” she offered. To be frank, the smell was getting to her. Not because it was unpleasant, but it made her crave more than just dessert. Fahrenheit sliced herself a generous piece, and Daisy reclined back in her chair with a small exhale.

        “It must really suck,” Fahrenheit said abruptly.

        “What? The cake?”

        “N-No,” she said hastily, her shoulders stiffening. “Everything you’ve been through. You’re... you’re a tough lady, I can admire that.”

        “Thanks,” Daisy said with utmost sincerity. It may have been the only compliment she’d ever heard from the other woman and, knowing Fahrenheit’s values, a weighty one at that.

        She ungracefully stuffed the dessert in her mouth. “This is good,” she said humbly with some crumbs falling down onto her shirt.

        Daisy smiled. “Thank you, I had to improvise. I’m glad it’s not shit.”

        She snorted. “No it’s good,” Fahrenheit said, again gently as if believing her volume possessed tangible power, and she wanted her words to caress for once instead of punch. _What a funny girl._

        Dessert was eaten quickly, and in profound yet comfortable silence. After chugging one last beer, Fahrenheit’s eyes blinked in a tell-tale way.

        “You need to go home and sleep,” Daisy said, picking up the dishes. “You’ve stuffed yourself enough for winter hibernation.”

        “Thanks for the food,” Fahrenheit said as she pulled her armor back on in a lumbering fashion. “And the weird Christmas bullshit. Cake was good. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

        “A ginger who’s never tasted ginger,” Daisy teased. “What’s that, poetic irony?”

        Fahrenheit said nothing but almost seemed… _tickled._ Daisy walked her down the stairs and to the front door.

        “Hey. Uh,” Fahrenheit turned to her. “You said there were more winter holidays, right?”

        “New Years is next, but I’m sure you know that one.”

        “Right. Do... Is there a pre-war way to celebrate?”

        “Yes. You get absolutely wasted and then blow shit up.”

        She cracked a smile. “Well I know _that_.”

        “But when the clock strikes midnight, you’re supposed to kiss someone for good luck.”

        “S... Sounds stupid.”

        “Yes, well... I can be superstitious,” she sighed.

        There was awkward silence.

        “Me too,” Fahrenheit said suddenly, making Daisy’s eyes snap upwards. “I... S-See you then.”

        The fire-haired girl bolted out of the shop, and this time Daisy didn’t try to hold back her laughter.

        _Daisy, even still you’ve got it._


End file.
